


Boundaries

by RK_Anon (Rochelle_Templer)



Series: Ineffable Husbands Bingo fics [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A few swear words here and there, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Romance and Fluff, and yes some angst and feels, brief mentions of past abuse, brief unwanted romantic advances, but this is mostly fluffy romance, gratuitous additions of my own head canons, so the same level of cussing as canon really, tooth rotting fluff levels of romance, with some angst mixed in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-07-30 17:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20100967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/RK_Anon
Summary: The Apocalypse has been averted and Crowley and Aziraphale have been released from their obligations to Heaven and Hell.Thus, a new journey begins as they learn more about each other and what being together will mean for them.But 6000 years of history do not vanish overnight. And Crowley realizes that he is not the only one with shadows in his past to overcome.Then again, Crowley never did believe that true love would be simple or easy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place a couple of weeks after the Nonpocalypse. 
> 
> This chapter is also a prompt fill for the Ineffable Husbands Bingo square: I've got you.

Temptation was an intimate subject for Crowley.

It was his first order of business once humans had been created. Clever, wonderful, and terrible humans. He had spent several millennia fine-tuning his craft and yet they still managed to give him a welcome challenge every once in a while.

Humans weren’t the only beings he had learned to tempt. As it turned out, demons were also quite susceptible to temptation when it was offered by someone who knew what they were doing. Crowley soon discovered that the right temptations could lead to valuable favors at a future date, knowledge he took full advantage of while on his indefinite assignment on Earth.

He’d even tried his techniques out on angels. Well, not that many. Two, to be exact. One of those experiences had been particularly pleasurable after putting up with her attempts to Smite him.

The other was, of course, Aziraphale. Tempting was always complicated with him. Mainly because Crowley actually cared about the effects those temptations had on the angel. Both on an official level and a personal one. It wasn’t easy to find ways to put love and temptation on the same wavelength, but Crowley never did care for easy. At least, not with the things that mattered.

Thousands, if not millions, of temptations were still not enough to prepare Crowley for when he would face the burning ache of his own desires. Especially when those desires were centered on a blond-haired angel who managed to look devastating while wearing a tartan bowtie and round glasses that were perched on the tip of his nose.

Right now, Aziraphale was sitting on the couch at the back of his bookshop quietly reading an enormous tome balanced on his lap, a slight smile on his lips.

Those lips. Crowley was certain that Aziraphale’s mouth would be soft and sweet, and he longed to discover that for himself. He wanted the angel’s hands to hold him with the same care that he showed toward his most prized books. He wanted to move over to that couch and press their bodies as close together as humanly possible. And then maybe beyond that.

“Dear? What is it?”

Crowley’s eyes widened and he was relieved that he had kept his glasses on this time. Aziraphale had looked up from his book and was smiling at him. Bless it, how did this angel…this supposed angel…manage to make his craving even worse with that smile? Granted, it was a smile that could outshine the sun, but that shouldn’t make a difference to a bona fide demon, shouldn’t it?

“Ngh,” he managed to splutter out with as suaveness as he could muster up. He coughed and tried again. “Nothing. Why?”

There was a question seeping into the angel’s smile, but Crowley wasn’t sure if that question was meant for him or for Aziraphale himself.

“It’s just that the look on your face reminded me of a man I met many years ago at a restaurant in Paris. He was being served _babas au rhum_ for the first time and it was quite obvious that he was eager for the experience.”

Crowley shrugged his shoulders with practiced nonchalance. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

_‘Shit, of course Aziraphale would ask.’_

“…about dinner.”

One of the angel’s eyebrows arched up. “Oh?”

“Y-yeah, there’s a new place that’s opened up…and I thought tomorrow we could…and we could try….”

The inquisitive look woven into Aziraphale’s smile melted away. “That sounds marvelous, Crowley.”

Crowley nodded mutely. It was no problem. He would just have to find a suitable restaurant that had just opened up by tomorrow. Not a problem. Restaurants came and went all the time. Or maybe he could miracle one up. Wait, could he do that? He hadn’t ever tried it before, but that didn’t mean….

Aziraphale sighed. “I’m sorry, dear. You must be dreadfully bored just sitting there while I read. You can….”

“No, um, that’s fine, I was just….”

Aziraphale leaned forward. His expression was still ridiculously affectionate, but there was a glint of something more serious in his eyes.

“Crowley, I would like you to stay. And I would like it ever so much if you would….” His words trailed off as he patted the space beside him on the couch.

Crowley made sure to fight the urge to frown. Did the angel know what he had been thinking about all along? The look on Aziraphale’s face gave nothing away. Still, Crowley didn’t need to be asked twice. With another shrug, mostly for show, he sauntered over and plopped down to sit next to him.

When he was this close, Crowley could feel the warmth Aziraphale radiated. It wasn’t just the angel’s higher body temperature either. The air around Aziraphale felt comforting and soft. Like love.

“I was thinking we could go for a walk later this afternoon,” Aziraphale continued. “We have been neglecting our feathered friends at the pond.”

“Hmm,” Crowley hummed, slouching down.

“And I have a case of a lovely new wine from Switzerland for you to try this evening. I discovered it while visiting Hans there last year. You remember him, don’t you? He found a replacement for my first edition copy of _Leaves of Grass_ that one odious customer swindled from me.”

Crowley nodded again. Sitting here made it impossible for him to resist the urge to act. Slowly and carefully, Crowley reached over and placed his hand onto one of Aziraphale’s.

The effect was instantaneous. A rose blush spread over the angel’s cheeks and his smile became even more vibrant. Aziraphale’s fingers arched up and bent Crowley’s down into his palm.

“Crowley, my dear….”

By now, Aziraphale was beaming, and Crowley was almost able to stop being irritated over how soft this angel had made him.

The corners of Crowley’s mouth turned upward. What did he care? Hell had no hold on him anymore, and they didn’t have to worry about Heaven breathing down their necks for the foreseeable future. He could be as soft as he wanted with Aziraphale. And if they wanted to share romantic dinners or hold hands or even strip down and slam into each other all night long, they were free to do so. The only limits were their own desires.

The smile on Aziraphale’s face did not dim in the slightest as his gaze returned to the book on his lap.

“Crowley, I do hope you know that I am ever so fond of you.”

“I know,” Crowley said, his voice quiet, but steady.

Aziraphale nodded and fell silent. The angel didn’t let go of his hand, but Crowley didn’t miss the way Aziraphale’s breaths sometimes caught in his throat.

And that was the rub. Crowley knew that Aziraphale wanted this. Needed this. The angel’s hunger for affection was infused into every word and gesture while they were together. But Aziraphale was also still working on getting used to being loved in a direct, intimate way.

One of the biggest focuses of this process was learning to handle physical displays of affection. Many of the touches they shared had generated a flustered response from Aziraphale. The angel never acted as if those touches were unwelcome and would usually warm to them quickly. Nevertheless, it was impossible to miss the awkwardness of his reactions.

Crowley hadn’t been surprised by this. Angels weren’t meant to be touched with tenderness or caressed with reverence. Neither were demons for that matter, but Crowley could tell that this would be a steeper learning curve for Aziraphale than it would ever be for him.

Part of that was surely due to how a certain group of archangels had done their best to break Aziraphale’s spirit in every way possible. Aziraphale was tight-lipped about his treatment in Heaven, but Crowley was certain that they had made Aziraphale feel unworthy.

It was a feeling Crowley was well acquainted with.

Crowley squeezed the angel’s hand with as much reassurance as he could. On the surface this was such a little thing, but he knew it meant far more to Aziraphale. He would have to be patient and even then, there might always be limits to what his angel would be comfortable with.

The feel of that warm hand in his was more than enough to rid himself of any lingering regrets over that. Crowley had spent six thousand years pining for Aziraphale. Everything he shared with the angel from this point onward was a treasure he had thought he would never have.

Crowley smiled at him again, content with the knowledge that he would always have plenty to fill his heart. Thus, he was determined to go as slow as Aziraphale needed.

* * *

“Crowley, how did you find this spot?”

Crowley blinked and yawned. He and Aziraphale were sitting on a blanket that had been spread onto the ground underneath an ancient oak tree. Wildflowers stretched out in front of them and there didn’t appear to be another person for miles.

“Adam showed it to me the last time we visited,” he replied. “While you were checking out the local bookshop, he said he’d show me his favorite place to go when he wants some time to himself.”

“It it lovely,” Aziraphale said, nodding. “And I can tell Adam loves it too. You can feel his influence out here.”

Crowley nodded in reply. The two of them had just finished off a simple picnic lunch of bread, apples, and cheeses and were admiring how gentle breezes created ripples of color in the field nearby. He thought about curling up for a nap in the sun, but then remembered the surprise he had packed.

“What is that?” Aziraphale asked as Crowley pulled out a little white box from the back corner of the basket. “I don’t remember packing it.”

“That’s because this was a little something I thought of on my own,” Crowley said. “Jean-Pierre sends his deepest regards, by the way.”

“Jean-Pierre?” Aziraphale’s face brightened. “Is that…?”

Crowley opened the box and held it up to the angel. Inside was a small torte, no bigger than a saucer plate. The bottom layer was a dark, luscious brown while the top layer was a pale pink. A flower shaped arrangement of strawberries sat on the top.

Aziraphale let out a soft squeak of pleasure at the sight. The chef Crowley had gotten this from didn’t make this dessert very often, but he owed both him and Aziraphale a favor. And Crowley hadn’t forgotten how much the angel had rhapsodized over it the first him he had had it.

Aziraphale started to reach for it, but Crowley pulled it away, fetching a fork from the basket.

“My dear, how could you show me that and not even let me have a little…?”

“Oh it’s all yours angel,” Crowley said, scooting closer to him. “But my way. Now, open your mouth.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows knit together. Crowley could see the angel weighing how badly he wanted this dessert against agreeing to whatever the demon had in mind without knowing ahead of time what it was.

Another longing glance at the torte turned out to be the moment of decision. Aziraphale parted his lips, his eyes still studying Crowley with careful deliberation.

Crowley smiled and slowly pushed the side of the fork through the tip of the torte, slicing away an entire edge off. Then he moved the fork into Aziraphale’s mouth. The angel immediately closed his mouth around it, his lips sliding the piece into his mouth.

“Oh my, this is…heavenly,” Aziraphale sighed.

Crowley snorted. “I’m sure it’s better than that. Ready for another bite, angel?”

A slight frown appeared on the angel’s face. “Crowley, I can feed myself.”

“No one said you couldn’t. But this is more fun.” Crowley sliced off another sliver, this one with a piece of strawberry on top. He waved the fork in front of Aziraphale’s face, a smirk on his lips. “Well?”

Aziraphale hesitated, his expression still wary. But it only took another slight turn of the fork for him to capitulate, leaning in and closing his eyes while taking the bite this time. Crowley watched Aziraphale’s throat bob as a soft hum of appreciation came from the angel.

After that, there were no more words. Just Crowley scooping out piece after piece and feeding them into Aziraphale’s waiting mouth. Each bite brought forth another sigh of bliss, and Aziraphale soon began to smile as he ate.

Crowley felt his heart turning to mush at the sight. This was a good idea. He doubted that he could fully explain to Aziraphale what watching him eat, knowing that he was the one who was giving the angel so much pleasure, was doing to him. The shorthand explanation was that it felt _good_. It would take all afternoon to put words to the rest of it.

Eventually, the torte was down to one last generous bite. By now, Aziraphale simply let his mouth hang open, ready and impatient. The anticipation in his eyes was intoxicating.

Crowley maneuvered the fork with a flourish, leaning close to Aziraphale who opened wide and then closed his mouth around it, pressing his lips along the tines. Aziraphale’s eyes remained closed, even after Crowley removed the clean fork from his mouth.

“My dear that was scrumptious,” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley positioned himself so he could whisper into the angel’s ear.

“Glad you liked it. Now…how about we finish off what’s left of the wine.”

Aziraphale opened his eyes, turning his face toward Crowley. There was a breathless happiness in the angel’s eyes. The blue in them seemed richer, darker than normal.

“I think that would be an excellent idea.”

* * *

Three days later, Crowley snuck into the bookshop. The door had been locked, but that was rarely a problem for him.

It was late at night, so when Crowley didn’t see Aziraphale right away, he could guess what the angel was doing: dusting the books that were stored in the deeper recesses of the shop. The books and the furniture the two of them used were the only things that were cleaned on a regular basis.

Seconds after closing the door, Aziraphale appeared, a feather duster from the Victorian era clutched in one hand.

“Oh. Crowley. I didn’t think you would come by. You said something about staying in tonight.”

“I did,” Crowley nodded. “I don’t plan on going anywhere else, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled and opened his mouth. He probably had something in mind to say, but one glance at the bundle in Crowley’s arms put a halt to that. Instead, he tilted his head slightly to the side.

“What are those?”

Crowley chuckled. “What do they look like? They’re records.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Crowley, if you wanted to listen to some music, I have plenty of….”

“Yeah, I’ve listened to all your records. More than once. Time for you to expand your music tastes.”

A look of indignation appeared on Aziraphale’s face. A particularly adorable look of indignation, but indignation nevertheless.

“Crowley, I hear plenty of that… that be-bop in your Bentley.”

Crowley smirked, unwilling to take the bait. “There isn’t any Queen, if that’s what you’re worried about. Or Velvet Underground.”

There was still a hint of a pout in the angel’s expression, but that soon gave way to polite resignation. Crowley carried his stack of records over to Aziraphale’s gramophone and gingerly set them down on a stand next to it. Then he checked the stack for any hint of wobbling. He had spent hours planning the order of these records and there was no way he’d allow anything to mess it up.

With a grin, Crowley spun on his heels and snapped his fingers on both hands. Piles of books on the floor had disappeared. The result was a large circle of empty space in the middle of the bookshop.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried. “What the Hell have you done?”

“Don’t worry, angel,” Crowley said, his grin not lessening in the slightest in the face of the angel’s angry tone. “I just moved the books into that half empty storage room you’ve got downstairs. I’ll put them back when we’re done.”

Crowley’s grin widened as he watched a far more quizzical look appear on Aziraphale’s face. He waved his hands slowly and the lights in the shop became softer, dimmer. They faded down and flicked like candlelight. Then, he took out a record and placed it onto the gramophone. The record player began to spin, but Crowley made the needle hover just above the vinyl. And there it would wait until he was ready.

Crowley strolled to the middle of the empty circle, chuckling at the confused look on the angel’s face.

“Done? Done with what?”

“Dancing,” Crowley answered. “I’m going to teach you to dance something besides the gavotte.”

The pout returned, but there was no heat in it. “The gavotte is a wonderful dance, dear. You should try it.”

“Only if you give this a try,” Crowley replied. “Come on.”

Crowley held out a hand, gesturing with his fingers for Aziraphale to join him in the center of the circle. Aziraphale looked like he was going to say something else, but at the last minute, he simply shook his head and walked over to Crowley.

“And when did you learn to dance? I thought demons weren’t all that much better than angels in that regard.”

Crowley chuckled again. “You forget that I spent a lot of time in Paris just before the Revolution. I know you were at that one ball old Louis the 14th  threw for Marie’s birthday. Remember? The one where they served those _macarons_ you loved so much?”

“That’s right,” Aziraphale said, his face brightening. “And you had the loveliest dress of anyone there, my dear.”

“That’s because the dressmaker made it especially for me,” Crowley replied.

“Tempted him into the job, did you?”

“That was hardly a temptation. He was trying to impress the royals and thought I’d make a good advertisement for his wares.”

“I’m sure business picked up for him after that night,” Aziraphale said, his smile admiring.

“It did,” Crowley replied. “Anyway, one of the dukes there turned out to be a very skilled dancer and he was more than willing to help a poor, innocent lady who had never been to such an event to learn how to move on the dance floor.”

Aziraphale let out a snort of his own which Crowley had anticipated with his choice of words to describe himself…or rather, herself…on that night.

Crowley walked up to him and held his arms out. “Look, just follow my lead, all right.”

Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley put one arm around the angel’s waist, placing his hand flat against the small of Aziraphale’s back. Then he took Aziraphale’s hand into his free one and raised their arms up so their hands were at shoulder level.

Partially so he could have a better vantage point to watch Aziraphale’s feet and partially because he knew that all this would be a new experience for the angel, Crowley made sure to keep some distance between their bodies.

“Ok, now just watch where my feet go and just sort of react to them. Here.”

Crowley began a simple waltz, moving slowly enough so that Aziraphale had plenty of time to study what Crowley was doing, listen to instruction, and then practice performing the correct motions with his own feet. It was ponderous and awkward at first, and Crowley’s feet were stepped on a couple of times.

Soon though, Aziraphale was able to move in a leisurely rhythm, his steps more confident. Once that happened, Crowley loosened his hold on Aziraphale’s hand long enough to snap his fingers, lowering the needle onto the record.

The moment the music started, Crowley put the side of his index finger under Aziraphale’s chin, guiding the angel to raise his head so he could look into his eyes.

“Up here, angel,” he murmured as he closed some of the distance between them.

_“Whoa, my love…my darling…I’ve hungered for…your touch…alone….”_

_“Lonely time….”_

Crowley snapped his fingers again, miracling his glasses into his pocket. He drank in Aziraphale’s gaze, aquiver with need and adoration, while doing his best to keep his own gaze calm and attentive.

He moved closer yet. Their bodies were brushing up against each other now, but Aziraphale had not looked away once from his eyes. Crowley stared deep into that sea of blue in Aziraphale’s eyes, beautiful, vast and never able to be completely known, no matter how badly Crowley wished he did.

_“And time…goes by…so slowly….”_

_“And time…can do so much….”_

Suddenly, Crowley could feel tension rising in Aziraphale’s body. He started to pull away, but Aziraphale tightened his grip on Crowley’s hand.

“Don’t. Please.”

Crowley nodded, moving back to where he was and then drawing Aziraphale toward him with the hand he had on the angel’s back. He began to rub small circles with that hand, pressing lightly. Aziraphale responded by lowering his head down so he could rest it against Crowley’s shoulder.

“Crowley….” The angel’s voice had a tremor, but he still clung to Crowley, his arm reaching up to wrap it around Crowley’s upper back. Crowley moved the hand that was entwined with Aziraphale’s and pressed it to his chest, squeezing it gently.

“I’ve got you, Aziraphale,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

Aziraphale responded by pulling Crowley closer to him, pushing their torsos together. There was no space between them now. Their dance had become an embrace in motion. Crowley tilted his head so that he could nuzzle his cheek against the angel’s blond curls. He wondered if Aziraphale could hear how hard his heart was pounding.

_“I…I need your love….I…need your love….”_

Crowley didn’t know when it happened exactly. He only knew that there was a change in how the angel was holding him. The tension had drifted away. Clinging had become caressing. Hands that had been quivering were steady while they clasped Crowley’s hand and traced exploratory fingers on the demon’s back near where his wings would be if he let them out.

Aziraphale lifted his head and, for a moment, Crowley stopped breathing once he saw the look of love in the angel’s eyes.

_“…my darling…I’ve hungered….**hungered**…for your touch…alone…”_

“Aziraphale,” he whispered.

Aziraphale closed his eyes again and brushed his cheek against Crowley’s. The touch electrified every nerve in the demon’s body, a jolt followed by a soothing warmth that bled into every part of him. Crowley’s mind struggled to understand how it was possible to withstand the inferno of Hellfire and yet feel like he could be consumed down to ashes with just one touch.

_“I **need** your love….I…I need your love….”_

Aziraphale looked at him again, the smile on his face open and peaceful. Crowley couldn’t help but match it with a fond look of his own. He added more flourishes to their dance, and joy flickered in Aziraphale’s eyes as he seamlessly followed Crowley’s lead.

All too soon, the music stopped, both of them having to pause to take a breath.

“My dear…I think I might enjoy be-bop after all.”

Crowley laughed with Aziraphale immediately joining in.

“There’s plenty more where that came from, angel. We can stay together all night.”

“I would like that very much.”

And so they did. The gramophone did not stop playing until the first rays of dawn came into the bookshop the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics quoted in the last scene are from "Unchained Melody" by the Righteous Brothers. I highly recommend listening to it while re-reading the scene where they are dancing as that was what was on my mind while I wrote it.
> 
> That and I think the song really suits the love they have for each other.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter. Sadly, yes, I did end up having to change the total number of chapters for this fic as it has become longer than I anticipated. Thankfully, though, I do actually have the majority of it drafted out and just need to edit. 
> 
> So, hopefully, it should still be finished before too long.

“Please, Mr. Fell, I must have this book. You don’t know how long I’ve been searching for it.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow as he silently slithered into the angel’s bookshop. He had arrived with the intent of taking Aziraphale for a walk in the park and then maybe dinner. As soon as he saw the “Open” sign on the front door, however, he knew he’d probably have to change his plans.

“I am sorry, sir, I’m afraid that one is definitely _not_ for sale. I only had it out so I could do some minor repairs and….”

“But you have to let me buy it! Name your price. I’ll pay anything you ask.”

Crowley crept around the shelves, keeping an eye on the scene nearby. He never understood why Aziraphale stored his personal collection of books in a shop in the first place. It wasn’t as if the angel actually wanted to sell any of them. Although, Crowley had noted that the angel did keep some books near the entrance that he was willing to part with: duplicates of books he already had, copies that didn’t turn out to be everything he had hoped for, and a few popular books along with some oddities that he felt deserved more attention.

Unfortunately, there were also books further back in the store that Aziraphale refused to sell at any price, and customers seemed to have a knack for latching onto them.

Which led to the awkward situation Crowley was witnessing right now.

Aziraphale sighed and shook his head at the man in front of him. “Even if I was willing to sell…which I am not…I doubt you could afford my price.”

The man ground his jaw. “Try me. You’ll find I can afford a great deal.”

Crowley perched himself onto one of the chairs. The customer had the fashion sense of a clichéd college professor, complete with a tweed suit and a sweater vest. But his demeanor was far more reminiscent of Gabriel. And Crowley despised Gabriel.

“I’m sorry, I just…Mr. Fell, my wife saw a copy just like this one in a bookshop during our honeymoon fifteen years ago. And it’s our anniversary next week.”

“Well then, congratulations to you and your wife,” Aziraphale replied, his tone polite, but prickly.

“Thank you,” the man said, clearly ignoring that tone. “But you can see why I must have this book. Annie will be over the moon if I give her this, and I need to keep her and her father happy. Well?”

The angel let out another long, frustrated sigh. Crowley could tell that Aziraphale had already tried his usual tactics for dissuading people from purchasing his books: cold stares, a dank, musty smell, and the aforementioned outrageous prices which the angel just alluded to. He could even sense increasing traces of Aziraphale’s angelic presence coming to the surface, something that usually put the fear of God into people in a very literal sense.

However, those tactics only worked if said people had any common sense or self preservation instincts. This guy obviously had neither of them.

_‘Right. Time for Plan B.’_

Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose just above where his glasses were sitting. “Sir, I understand that this book might have some sentimental value to you, but you must understand that it does for me as well. It was a gift from the author herself, a quite charming and intelligent lady who told me that I was….”

“Wait a minute. You talk like you knew her personally,” the customer cut in. “You do know that she died in 1928, don’t you? Some expert you are. Or is this your game now? To act like you’re not right in the head so that I’ll….”

The man stopped when he realized that Aziraphale wasn’t listening to him anymore. The rather odd book seller’s eyes appeared to be drawn to something behind him. Curiosity quickly won out and the man turned to see what he was looking at.

He immediately wished that he hadn’t.

Slithering toward him was a snake. And not the usual sort either, like what he used to see in his mother’s garden when he was a child. This snake was enormous, even larger than the anaconda he had seen at the zoo last month. It was a glossy black with scarlet scales in its neck and underbelly.

The most disturbing thing of all was the eyes: amber with a black slit in the center. Those were not the eyes of an animal that operated purely by instinct. They were the eyes of a thinking creature, one with deliberate purpose.

And right now, those eyes were focused on him.

“Wh-wha-wha-what…? What is….?”

“Oh don’t mind him,” Aziraphale said with a cheerful smile. “He just likes to visit me whenever he gets the chance.”

By now, the man could only splutter out incoherent sounds. The book fell from his hands, and he pointed a shaking finger at the serpent that was slowly coming toward him.

Suddenly, the snake raised up, its face eye level with the man. Its tongue flickered in and out for a few seconds before it opened its mouth to release a protracted hiss that managed to show off most of its fangs.

That turned out to be the breaking point. The man let out a high-pitched scream and fled from the store, rushing down the street and bumping into people along the way.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale retrieved his book from the floor. “Oh no, look how he scuffed the cover.” The angel ran his fingers across it, the dirt disappearing.

Then he turned his gaze toward Crowley. He started with a smile, but then changed it to a much sterner expression albeit with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“That was very naughty of you,” he scolded in the most unconvincing tone ever. “Scaring the poor man like that.”

There was another hiss that sounded suspiciously like a sarcastic cackle before the scales began to fade and the serpentine form shifted.

“I told you to not be open on Mondays during lunch hour,” Crowley said once he was back to his preferred human-shaped form. “That’s when the idiots are teeming in the streets.”

“You may have a point,” the angel murmured as he walked toward the door. He turned the sign to the “Closed” side and pulled down the shade. Then he looked back at Crowley, a smile appearing.

“Oh, your hair. You’re growing it out again.”

Crowley nodded, pulling his shades out of his jacket and putting them on. His hair was just reaching the top of his shoulders, the same length it was about eleven years ago when the whole Almospocalypse business started.

“Yep. Figured it was time for a change. Thought I’d go back to a longer style.”

“It’s lovely,” Aziraphale said, beaming. “I mean, I liked the shorter hair too. It was quite stylish. But I think this suits you.”

Crowley nodded again, making sure to keep his smile subtle. He’d never been a fan of keeping one look for very long, unlike Aziraphale who would usually be slow to adapt to changes in fashion over the centuries. Crowley was usually eager to try out the newest looks and considered it boring to be the same all the time.

Still, the demon couldn’t deny the appeal of how Aziraphale was clearly admiring his hair as it was now. He would have to keep this in mind for the future.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale continued to stare at his head, and Crowley noted a twitch in the fingers of the angel’s right hand. As if Aziraphale was itching to touch him. Crowley smirked and moved closer, eager to see where this could go.

The sudden patter of rain derailed that thought, and Crowley let out a frustrated huff.

Aziraphale laughed. “It’s all right, my dear. I know you were thinking about a trip to the park, but well…to be perfectly honest, I was hoping to stay in tonight. There is a spot of inventory that I have been putting off for far too long.”

“Inventory?” Crowley rolled his eyes. “You could take care of that with a wave of your hand, angel.”

“Yes, but, it wouldn’t be the same at all,” Aziraphale replied, fidgeting.

Crowley sighed, but made sure to give the angel a fond smile. He had known for centuries that Aziraphale enjoyed taking the long way round with certain things. It was something Crowley often found tedious, but he understood that it was important to Aziraphale.

Still, Crowley was not one to remain defeated for long.

“How about some takeaway? That sushi place you love so much has started to offer delivery. You could let me know when you’re close to being done, and I can put in the order for you.”

The pensive look in Aziraphale’s eyes vanished. “What a marvelous idea. Yes, I should be done in a couple of hours. That is, if you don’t mind waiting.”

Crowley walked over to the couch and threw himself onto it.

“I could always stand another nap. Wake me when you’re ready.”

* * *

Three hours later, Aziraphale was sitting in the chair across from the couch, his eyes closed and his head tilted back with a smile on his lips. He had just finished the rolls of sushi Crowley had ordered and was enjoying the first sip of wine from the bottle he had opened after dinner.

Meanwhile, Crowley lounged on the couch, a half empty glass in his hand. The rain continued to pelt the rooftops outside, but he didn’t care about his disrupted plans anymore. Not when it meant he could watch his angel sigh in blissful satisfaction without no one else around to interrupt it.

“I really should get some more work done,” Aziraphale said after another swallow. “While I was taking care of that stack in the upper level, I noticed that my philosophy scrolls had become disorganized. I should….”

“There’s always later,” Crowley replied. Then he nodded at the book sitting on the stand next the angel’s chair. “And I know how much you enjoy reading Le Fanu.”

The smile returned. “Trying to tempt me again, you old serpent?”

Crowley flashed him a grin in response. “I only tempt those who are looking to be tempted, angel. I take it that’s the first edition you were looking for last month?”

A faint blush bloomed in the angel’s cheeks, and Crowley wondered if he would ever tire of it. Doubtful.

“Yes it is. It came in the mail yesterday. Oh I know it’s rather melodramatic, but Le Fanu is quite good at creating an atmosphere. The first time I read it was on a night very much like this. I must confessed, I was riveted.”

“No need to explain yourself,” Crowley said with a wave of his hand. “We all have our guilty pleasures.”

He noted the beginnings of concern in Aziraphale’s expression and decided that a quick diversion was needed.

“I’ve never read any of his work. What’s it like? I mean, besides melodramatic and atmospheric.”

The angel’s face brightened. “I could read it to you, if you’d like. It’s ideal for a night like this.”

Crowley gulped down the rest of his drink and sat the glass down onto the settee. “Sure. I could use some riveting in this weather.” He sat up and placed a hand onto the cushion next to him. “You know the light’s better over here.”

Aziraphale smirked at him, making a show of refilling his glass before fetching his book and joining him. He savored another healthy swallow and got out his glasses, putting them on as he settled into his seat.

Crowley took his glasses off and stuffed them into his pocket before stretching his arms out. Then he decided that his legs needed a stretch as well. He swiveled his body to the side and laid down onto his back so he could dangle his legs over the arm of the couch. His head ended up in Aziraphale’s lap.

The angel looked down at him, his glasses perched at the tip of his nose and the smirk on his lips wider than it was a second ago. “Comfortable, my dear?”

“Very,” Crowley said, folding his arms over his chest.

Aziraphale lifted his glass for another drink. Once he was finished, he opened the book and cleared his throat.

Crowley closed his eyes. He could hear the rustle of pages and felt the gentle ebb and flow of the angel’s stomach against his head.

_“Upon a paper attached to the Narrative which follows, Doctor Hesselius has written a rather elaborate note, which he accompanies with a reference to his Essay on the strange subject which the MS. Illuminates. This mysterious subject he treats, in that Essay, with his usual learning and acumen, and with remarkable directness and condensation. It will form but one volume of the series of that extraordinary man's collected papers….”_

A lazy smile appeared on Crowley’s lips. He listened to every word the angel read in that soft, faintly melodic voice of his. However, he was also concentrating on the feel of his cheek resting against a soft, warm thigh and on the vibration of Aziraphale’s breathing. Angels didn’t need to breathe, but during moments like this, Crowley was glad that his angel had developed the habit.

Crowley was falling into a trance. Still aware enough to follow the story, but also adrift in a comforting cocoon made of Aziraphale’s presence surrounding him.

A touch, tender, but also unexpected, jolted him out of his sleepy spell. Fingers had brushed the top of his head, and serpentine instincts had taken over. He jerked away with a loud hiss.

“Oh...oh my dear I am so sorry.”

Crowley opened his eyes and turned to face Aziraphale who was staring at him with apologetic eyes.

“’Sss all right,” he muttered. “What were you…?”

Another blush appeared, this one tinged with shame. “I am sorry. It’s just, you looked so peaceful like that. And your hair…you have such lovely hair, my dear. I, I just wanted to….”

Crowley’s lips pressed into a tight line. He always wanted the angel to touch him. So why was there a coil of tension twisting inside him?

Forcing his limbs to move, he maneuvered himself to lie back down. Then, he reached up and took Aziraphale’s hand, carefully guiding it back to the ginger tresses on his head.

Aziraphale beamed at him, his fingers gliding through Crowley’s hair. He soon went deeper, probing gently until his fingertips were massaging the demon’s scalp.

Crowley’s eyes closed again, biting back the moan that was on the edge of his lips. Angel or not, there was no way to describe this touch other than sinful. The quaking warmth he had felt earlier was turning into a full body furnace.

“Crowley…my dearest….”

Crowley swallowed hard. How did Aziraphale do that? How did he manage to say his name like it was the most sensual word in every human language?

“Angel,” he breathed, arching his neck up into the touch.

Crowley cracked his eyes open. By now, Aziraphale was actually glowing, a faint golden light enveloping both of them. For a second, Crowley worried that the holiness of that light would burn his flesh. He was shocked, however, to discover that it was more like basking in a sunbeam on a summer’s day.

Aziraphale’s hand cupped Crowley’s head, caressing it as his fingers continued to twine through the demon’s hair. The angel’s gaze lingered on his face for a moment longer before finally turning his attention back to the book in his other hand.

Crowley turned onto his side and shut his eyes. Meanwhile, Aziraphale kept playing with his hair while he read. The gesture was soothing, full of affection and care.

And yet, Crowley couldn’t fully discard the tightly wound nerves that lingered, waiting to strike again. Not even the amusement he anticipated from Aziraphale reading about heaving bosoms and breathless kisses could erase it.

Crowley let one hand dangle down under the couch and curled its fingers tight. Maybe he couldn’t get rid of it, but he was determined to ignore it.

* * *

“So, what’s this exhibit we’re going to about anyway?”

“An introduction to Rococo style art with a focus on Boucher,” Aziraphale answered from his bedroom in the upstairs of his bookshop. “I hear they managed to bring in three or four of his paintings for a special showing later this month. Including _Venus in the Workshop of Vulcan_. My, it has been a while since I’ve had a chance to admire his work.”

Crowley leaned against the wall just to the left of the bedroom door. It had been a week since their rainy evening in the bookshop, and earlier that day, Aziraphale had invited him to a get-together at a museum.

He had showed up to find Aziraphale finishing up his preparations to leave. Crowley had swapped his usual attire for a jet-black turtleneck shirt with a matching black blazer and slacks. He thought about tying his hair back into a bun, but decided against it at the last minute.

“You ever meet him?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Aziraphale answered back. “Did you?”

“Yes,” the demon said, shoving his hands into his pockets. He hitched up one leg and tapped his foot against the wall. “He was at a dinner arranged by Madame Jeanette de Pompadour. Well, she was his patron after all. Made sense that she’d want to check in with her investment once in a while.”

“Oh? Was this part of one of your jobs?”

“Nah, my business was already finished at the time. Besides, the humans already had their hands full stirring up the discord that led to the French Revolution. Although, I still say Heaven had a hand in that one too, even if it was an indirect one.”

“Well, I hadn’t much to do with it,” Aziraphale huffed. “I was busy dealing with all that piracy that was going on in the Caribbean at the time. Thank Heavens that finally came to an end. You have no idea how many planks I had to fly away from.”

“Oh.” Crowley’s face fell. “A lot of that was Hastur’s work, you know. He didn’t mind getting his hands dirty if it meant he could brag about his craft. That and I think he secretly enjoyed watching all the sword and knife fights.”

There was a long pause. Long enough to deepen the frown on Crowley’s face. It wasn’t hard to guess what Aziraphale was thinking about, and Crowley longed to kick himself for letting the conversation go in this direction.

“Yes…I had thought that several incidents I encountered bore the mark of demonic influence,” the angel finally replied.

Crowley was about to try to steer the conversation away from this subject when Aziraphale stepped out of his bedroom. He had switched his usual outfit for a blue and tan argyle sweater with a cream colored blazer and pant set. Instead of a bowtie, there was a tartan cravat. 

A shy smile appeared on the angel’s face. “Thought I might try something a little different. A little more casual. I mean, this is supposed to be a friendly get-together, not a high society party. A chance to admire some art and share some fine food and wine and…oh, do you think I look all right?”

Crowley lowered his leg and walked over to Aziraphale, reaching over to play with the angel’s blazer collar.

“I think, I’m going to have the best dressed date of anyone there. Best looking one too.”

The demon thought for sure his teeth would start aching after saying something so saccharine, but the smile on Aziraphale’s face made it worth it. Yeah, he was becoming soft, but what of it? That grin could light up the night sky.

And it was all for him.

Soft laughter, surprised and bashful, rang in Crowley’s ears while the angel took his hand.

“Shall we be off, my dear?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story Aziraphale is reading at one point is "Carmilla" from the book "In a Glass Darkly" by Sheridan Le Fanu.


	3. Chapter 3

After arriving at the museum, the evening had gone just as Crowley had predicted it would.

It had indeed been a small crowd there, just under fifty people. Most of them were academics and critics. People who were at least once removed from the act of creating art, but who apparently were never so distant from it to lack a carefully crafted opinion of it.

Crowley chuckled and plucked a champagne flute from a tray that a server had presented to him. This lot was still far less insufferable than what he had seen at other parties. Aziraphale was right about this being a casual, friendly affair. The art was mainly an excuse to bring old friends together rather than setting up a competition of intellectualism between colleagues.

He was sure that Boucher would have approved.

The angel had also been right about the quality of the food and drink. At least the drink part anyway. Crowley hadn’t bothered with the food which was mainly hors d’oeuves. It was harder to disguise his habit of stuffing a plateful of food down his gullet with one swallow with a setup like that.

Crowley stood away from the crowd and admired a Lancret that he hadn’t seen since it was first painted. When he went to parties, he usually would seek out one or two persons who interested him from either a professional or a personal standpoint and then wile away the hours with them rather than try to mingle with the whole group. Tonight, though, Crowley was more in the mood to reflect than socialize.

And what he reflected on was how he wanted to see Aziraphale.

It didn’t take long to find him. The angel was at the center of a loose circle of humans, chatting animatedly. Probably about that first edition Fontenelle he had just acquired.

Crowley finished his champagne and thought about switching to wine. It never surprised him when people flocked toward Aziraphale, even when the angel was more in the mood for solitude. Despite passing himself off as human, his angelic aura had a way of pulling others into his orbit. A pull soft and reserved, but still every bit as sure as gravity.

Right now, Aziraphale was laughing with a married couple who were frequent visitors to the bookshop. They were professors at a university south of London and had known the angel since the two of them had first started seeing each other. The three of them had met over a cherished copy of _Wuthering Heights_, and Aziraphale had subtly guided them to realize the attraction they had for each other.

Crowley smirked. If Aziraphale hadn’t done it, he probably would have eventually. Watching how both men kept caressing each other’s hands, it was clear that they were meant to be in love.

“Mr. Fell. Mr. Fell. Oh, Ezra…I, I hoped you’d be here.”

The demon glanced over to see a man dressed in a rumpled grey suit stumble toward Aziraphale. Crowley recognized him too, a writer and another frequent visitor to the bookshop. Although, the man was usually far more sober than this whenever he dropped by.

Aziraphale abruptly stopped talking and turned his attention to the human approaching him. The others quietly backed away, probably sensing an uncomfortable scene developing.

“Hello Thomas,” the angel said softly. “I am glad to see you out and about. It’s been a while…since Joan….”

Thomas’ face scrunched up. He just managed to hand off his empty glass to a server who had picked that moment to appear. Crowley was sure that that was far from the only glass Thomas had enjoyed judging from the man’s unsteady gait.

“Yes, yes, Joan,” Thomas slurred. “She, she would have loved to be here tonight. She loved Boucher and…she, she was….”

“I know,” Aziraphale murmured in that same soothing tone. He sat his glass down onto a table stacked with pamphlets and hors d’oeuves trays. “She was quite fond of the Rococo style.”

“Yes, oh yes, she was,” Whitmore said, his voice cracking. “Ezra, I, I….”

Aziraphale walked over and took the man by the arm, guiding him away from the crowd. The angel never was comfortable with grief turning into a spectacle for others to gawk at. Crowley could hear the man continue to babble as Aziraphale walked with him toward the museum’s gift shop.

The demon sighed. He thought about conjuring up a taxi with a driver who was sympathetic enough to take on an inebriated passenger, but changed his mind. Aziraphale didn’t tend to send people in despair on their way without a blessing and maybe additional gestures of comfort. That could take time. Time a taxi driver could ill afford to waste. No, it’d be better to leave that to Aziraphale.

Several minutes passed with no sign of Thomas or Aziraphale reappearing. This wasn’t unusual, but it also wasn’t something that Crowley could avoid feeling curious about.

The demon retreated from the party and snuck down a corridor that was parallel to the one he had seen Aziraphale go down. Centuries of practice had honed his skill at muffling his footsteps down to silence and at using shadows to stay out of sight.

“Thomas…I, I don’t think you….”

Crowley tensed. He knew that tone. That was the tone Aziraphale got when he was being shoved outside of his comfort zone. A scowl creased his lips as he crept closer, looking for a good vantage point to see what was going on without being seen himself.

He found one behind a marble statue on the corner of the hallway. He positioned himself behind it, his eyes glittering in the dark.

“Ezra, I…when Joan, when she…You were so kind to her. And to me. And now, I…I’ve been so alone. So…alone.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. The angel had pressed himself up against a wall, and Thomas was leaning into Aziraphale’s personal space. Actually, “leaning” wasn’t descriptive enough for what Thomas was doing. “Invading” and “crowding” was more like it.

Then, suddenly, “groping” could be added. Thomas put his hands onto Aziraphale, clutching at him like a man grabbing at the first thing he could find to stop himself from drowning. Some of it…some of it was far more deliberate and possessive than what could be chalked up to blind grief.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said, his voice still infused with solemn sympathy. “Joan was a dear woman. And she loved you deeply, Thomas. She still does. A part of her will always be with you.”

“E-Ezra,” Thomas choked out. “I can’t take this anymore. The loneliness.”

Thomas staggered forward and lunged for the angel, grabbing onto him. Aziraphale smoothly re-directed the maneuver, guiding Thomas’ hands and arms so this was a friendly embrace rather than a hungry one. Thomas responded by sobbing against the angel’s shoulder.

Crowley glared, his eyes flickering with malevolent fire from behind his sunglasses. This wasn’t the first time he had seen Aziraphale take a more personal touch in comforting someone, but this wasn’t the same as those other times. There was a tightening in the angel’s jaw, a stiffening in his posture.

To Crowley, it was as clear as a lone neon sign at night: Aziraphale knew what sort of intent had been behind how Thomas had touched him, and he was deeply uncomfortable with it even though he didn’t shrink away.

Suddenly, Aziraphale looked up from the man in his arms and blinked his eyes very slowly and deliberately. He didn’t look straight at the demon, but Crowley knew that Aziraphale had become aware of him.

Crowley huffed and slinked away. Aziraphale could handle this situation himself and clearly wanted to. And Crowley had no desire to get in the way of that.

Still didn’t ease the weight he felt in his gut over what he had seen.

* * *

Three hours later, speeding down the street in the Bentley, it was obvious that neither of them had actually let it go.

This time, it was Aziraphale who had spoken first.

“Crowley, Thomas is a grieving man. He had met his wife Joan as a boy and they had been married for over twenty-five years when she passed on so suddenly.”

“Look, I get that,” Crowley sighed. “But that didn’t mean he had to touch you like that.”

“I doubt it was anything more than the effects of too much alcohol and sorrow.”

“Uh-huh, you forget that you’re talking to a demon. Your lot might be able to sense love, but my lot can sense other things. We can pick up on anything that could lead to a temptation. Like lust.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at him. “Is that what this is about? Jealousy?”

Crowley frowned and sighed again. “No, angel. Nothing like that.”

“Then what?” There was a prickly tone to Aziraphale’s voice, and Crowley hated it. Especially when it was directed at him.

The demon curled his fingers around the steering wheel. He really did not want to have this conversation. No good was likely to come of it. Then again, since when did he only focus on what was good?

“Why do you do it, angel? Why do you let a human get like, well, like _that_ with you instead of just…I don’t know, blessing him and then send him packing. Because you weren’t enjoying that. Don’t tell me you were either because it was obvious that you weren’t.”

The stormy glint in Aziraphale’s eyes was all the proof Crowley needed that this conversation was about to go just as badly as he thought it would.

“I am still an angel, Crowley. It’s my job to comfort people in need.”

“Your job? You’re hardly answering to Heaven these days.”

“That may be, but I haven’t forgotten about what I am. I may be a poor servant of the Almighty, but I don’t intend to completely cast aside my purpose of spreading God’s love.”

Crowley blew out a deep breath. “No, no you wouldn’t. And you’re not a poor servant, Aziraphale. You’re…whatever the opposite of that is.”

“I’m not sure if there is a direct….”

“Look, what I’m saying is that you’re beautiful, all right? And don’t let any bastard archangels make you think otherwise.”

He made sure to keep his gaze on the road while he said, but out of the corner of his eye, Crowley could see the frown on the angel’s face melt away into a pensive expression.

_‘Shit. I thought he was just irritable over how he had had to handle what happened tonight. But now he’s getting testy with me too.’_

“I really should get back to the bookshop,” Aziraphale continued. “I promised one of the graduate students I’d help her track down a text she needs for her thesis tomorrow.”

_‘Well that settles it, he is mad at me.’_ Originally, they had talked about going stargazing after they were done at the museum. But now Aziraphale was shutting him out, and Crowley couldn’t see anything that he could do that wouldn’t make it worse.

He steered the Bentley toward the bookshop, caring about speed limits even less than usual and ignoring it when the angel winced with each acceleration.

When they arrived, he parked up front, not bothering to turn off the car.

“Crowley….”

The demon grunted and snapped his fingers to shut down the engine. One soft word from his angel was still all he needed to get him to back off from his foul mood.

“I…I thought we could spend the night in again tomorrow. Maybe you could bring over some more of your records, if you’d like.”

Aziraphale was talking in that hesitant, questioning tone the angel did when he anticipated rejection. Crowley hated that even more than he hated Aziraphale being angry with him.

“Sure. And I’ll bring over some Thai food. We haven’t had that for a while.”

The angel’s face lifted immediately. “No we haven’t. And I was just thinking about how lovely some _khao phat kai_ would be earlier this afternoon.” Aziraphale turned in his seat to face him. “Crowley, about what happened….”

Crowley reached over and took one of the angel’s hands into both of his. He ran his thumbs over the back of it and then lifted it up to plant a soft kiss onto it.

“Good night, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled and squeezed Crowley’s hand back. Then he got out of the car and hurried to the bookshop, still taking the time to give him one last lingering look before dashing inside.

Crowley fell back against the seat. He suspected that some of his plants were developing leaf rot and had seen one of the flowers wilting in the sun that morning. Clearly, he had been far too soft with them lately. Time to give them a reminder of what was expected of them.

It was just too bad that this upcoming session with his plants would do nothing to erase the look he had just seen in the angel’s eyes as he got out of the car.

* * *

As it turned out, the stargazing was only delayed by three more days.

Crowley waited for a cloudless night before extending his invitation again. This time though, he proposed flying to their destination rather than taking the Bentley.

“Come on, angel. It feels good to stretch your wings more than once a century.”

So they flew, weaving back and forth into each other’s flight paths and taking far longer to get to their destination than necessary due to their trying out some fancier flying maneuvers. Crowley had been itching to fly more often for a long time, but he also wanted to wait until he could do it with Aziraphale. Thankfully, the event turned out to be well worth waiting for.

They landed on an isolated spot along the cliffs in Dover. It was a new moon tonight which made the stars above them the center of the show.

“Look at that,” Crowley said, pointing upward as he walked toward the edge. “There’s Peruses. Never did understand why they called it that. It doesn’t remind me of him at all. Still, always was proud of that one. That’s some of my best work.”

Aziraphale joined him and took his hand as they sat down together. Crowley gave him a pleased smirk and put an arm around his back, drawing him closer yet. The angel let out a contented sigh and put his head on Crowley’s shoulder.

“It is lovely, my dear. And what about that one? Aquila, I think they called it. Was that one of yours too?”

“Nah, but I watched that one being made. I’ve always wondered how the humans saw an eagle in that constellation. I still can’t see it.”

“Crowley, what was it like?” Aziraphale murmured. “Building the stars, I mean.”

Crowley turned to stare at him. “Don’t you know?” Aziraphale averted his eyes toward the ground.

“No, I...I’m afraid I don’t. Back then, I spent most of my time near the Throne of God. I had never ventured from Heaven until She sent me to guard the Eastern Gate of Eden.”

Crowley’s brow furrowed. For a moment, he had a memory of Eden. Of how, when he was sent up to “make some trouble”, he was warned that a cherub was guarding the Garden. But when he got there, all he found was a very human shaped angel, one that looked far more like the principality he later claimed to be. 

But if Aziraphale had existed so close to the Almighty’s presence, did that mean he…?

The demon shook his head. This wasn’t what he wanted to focus on tonight. Or ever, unless Aziraphale chose to talk about it.

“It must have been beautiful,” Aziraphale added. “Watching the stars form.”

“It was,” Crowley replied, giving him a light squeeze. He nudged Aziraphale playfully and was pleased when the angel looked back up at him with a wan smile.

“Let me tell you about when we made Andromeda. We really outdid ourselves with that one.”

And he did. Crowley spun tales of gasses swirling, of matter shifting, and of lights burning into existence from the darkness. And while he spoke, the starlight danced in Aziraphale’s eyes, no matter which way he turned his head.

Eventually, Crowley’s tales wound down. The warmth of Aziraphale’s body against him had become even more intriguing than the celestial bodies above him. Crowley turned his head to face him just as Aziraphale did the same. The result was a pair of bumped noses, causing both of them to laugh.

However, even after the laughter died away, Crowley did not look back at the sky. He didn’t want to lose the sensation of the angel’s breath on his face.

Aziraphale stared at him, mesmerized. “Crowley….”

Something stirred inside Crowley. Something that was building, desperate to be let out. He put a hand onto the angel’s cheek and then leaned in to kiss him.

It wasn’t the first kiss they shared or even the twentieth. But Crowley couldn’t remember another time before now when it had been as charged as this.

Or when Aziraphale had been this receptive to it.

The angel moaned as their lips parted, and need clawed its way out of Crowley’s chest. He kissed Aziraphale again and again: on the lips, on the cheek and along the line of his jaw. Rather than sating him, each kiss ignited his desire further.

“Angel,” he groaned.

Aziraphale gasped, clinging to him and tilting his head back to expose his neck. Crowley took this as an invitation and slid his mouth down it, grazing with teeth along the way. Aziraphale let out another moan that sounded like he had just bitten into one of his favorite crepes.

Crowley stroked the angel’s back as he continued to kiss him. A warmth was growing inside him. Something unfamiliar and yet tender. Something that wasn’t coming from himself and that Crowley was certain must be coming from Aziraphale.

The demon’s eyes slid shut as he reveled in this new sensation…no, this old one… this very old one. Six thousand years of pining and yet he still hadn’t imagined that this…whatever this was…would feel so good.

He was so caught up in his bliss, he hadn’t noticed the tiny shifts in Aziraphale’s demeanor: muscles that were tightening, a spine becoming rigid, hands that had stilled, and sounds that had become awkward.

“Crowley, I...I…”

“Angel,” Crowley cried out, pressing himself against Aziraphale. The only thing he knew in that moment was the need to be close to the angel. To have as little separation between their bodies as possible.

“No…s-stop…stop! Please….”

Like the flip of a switch, Crowley stopped, yanking himself away. His heart became a stone when he saw the mortified look on the angel’s face.

“Angel…Aziraphale, I…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to….”

The stone became glass when Aziraphale looked up and Crowley saw tears brimming in his eyes.

“Crowley… I, I can’t….”

Aziraphale leapt to his feet, his wings unfurling as soon as he was standing. Without another word, he took off into the night sky.

Crowley stood on the edge of the cliff, agape. The speed and urgency that Aziraphale had used to fly away had said one thing, loud and clear.

_Don’t follow me._

It took several minutes for Crowley to tear his eyes away from the sky. It only took another moment after that for him to fall to his knees and hunch down across the ground.

_‘Shit, shit, shit, why did I do that? Why didn’t I pay attention? Why didn’t I…why didn’t I…?’_

Crowley shook his head. He was a demon. Demons weren’t considerate by nature. Weren’t attentive by nature. Weren’t lovers by nature. And besides, what difference did the answers make anyway? None of that was going to bring Aziraphale back to him.

Crowley’s hands fisted into the dirt and rocks, pulling out blades of grass between his fingers. It was hours before he had the strength to move again.

It would be even longer than that before he actually wanted to move.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter. Thankfully, I am on track to finish this in five chapters, although, these last two will be much longer.

Four days later, nothing had improved.

Crowley had spent most of that time in his flat. As he had suspected, his plants had become complacent due to his newfound role as a demon happily in love with an angel. An entire day spent with carefully worded threats, plenty of yelling, and one well placed session with his custom-made miniature wood chipper had taught them the errors of their ways. They returned to their verdant glory, and Crowley made sure that they knew that they wouldn’t be given a second chance.

Once he had finished with that, Crowley struggled to find ways to fill his time. He binge-watched _The Golden Girls_, and when he was done with that, he decided to try another show he had heard about called _The Good Place_.

Then there was his record collection. Crowley spent hours sorting and then re-sorting them, sometimes taking a break to listen to one of his favorites. Eventually, he put a stop to this when he realized that he kept sorting them by how he wanted to share them with Aziraphale.

Sometimes, he would pull out his astronomy books and reminisce about his time among the stars before his Vague Saunter Downwards. He didn’t allow himself to keep very many memories from before his Fall, but he would always hold onto these ones. Memories he knew he would always cherish even if they were bittersweet.

However, whenever those memories started to morph into thoughts about how the last night he had spent with Aziraphale involved stargazing, Crowley abruptly decided that he needed to spend even more time with his plants.

The only time he did leave his flat was to drive by the bookshop. Not really to visit. He wasn’t about to drop in on the angel if he wasn’t welcome. It was just to get an idea of where he stood with Aziraphale currently and maybe get some insight into what went wrong in the first place.

However, each time he went by there, all Crowley found was an empty bookshop and no trace of Aziraphale having been back there at any point. After a couple of days of this, Crowley wasn’t sure which was worse: if Aziraphale had been there and was carrying on as if nothing had happened.

Or the fact that he hadn’t been there at all and the implications behind that.

No matter how hard he fought against it though, Crowley’s mind kept returning to that night. It would always start pleasantly with thoughts about how warm Aziraphale had felt in his arms or the sweet, soft texture of the angel’s skin where his tongue had tasted him. Then they would move on to memories of the hypnotic throb of Aziraphale’s pulse which had reverberated through his lips when he kissed the angel’s neck. Or to the sounds that Aziraphale had made which had made a gooey mess of his insides.

Thinking about all this for the fourth night in a row, Crowley slumped down in his throne, his melancholy taking an even firmer hold. He hadn’t meant to push Aziraphale toward things the angel wasn’t ready for. Aziraphale had just been too intoxicating to resist. Every touch had warmed Crowley in a way that went beyond the sensual. They had filled a hole inside him that had existed since his departure from Heaven.

And Aziraphale…damn it, Crowley had truly believed that Aziraphale had wanted it, had been craving it every bit as much as he had. The angel had made noises that he usually reserved for when he was eating his favorite dishes. It sure sounded like he was enjoying it.

Those sounds of pleasure had ignited something Crowley hadn’t realized was inside him. When he heard the angel moan like that, the only thing Crowley could think about was doing anything and everything he could to make it continue. He would have let Aziraphale eat him alive if meant hearing more of those delicious sounds.

But those memories would always end up in the same terrible place: with the sight of tears in the angel’s eyes.

Crowley curled shaking fingers around the arms of his chair. Tiny curls of black smoke rose up from the char marks he made in the wood.

He had made an angel cry. That should have been a crowning achievement for a demon. Crowley was just unlucky enough to feel like his wings were being crushed instead.

_He_ had made an angel cry. He had made _Aziraphale_ cry.

And the worst of it was, he didn’t entirely understand how he had done it. Going too fast? Kissing in particular? Or maybe he had let his fiery desire show a little too much? It could have been any of it. It could have been all of it. Crowley didn’t know and Aziraphale wasn’t telling him.

And that made Crowley _angry_. Flames of Hellfire angry. Angry as in “do not fuck with a demon unless you enjoy pain”. Anger was a comfortable feeling as it was also a very familiar one. Crowley had spent millennia being angry. Being so in love with Aziraphale had just pushed it to the back of his mind.

Now that Aziraphale had disappeared, anger was easy to fall back on.

_‘Damn it, he could have talked to me. Told me what I was doing wrong. Any other time, he has no fucking problem with letting me know about where he thinks I’m screwing up. But then he clams up when it’s something that’s actually important.’_

Crowley lifted his legs up, slamming his heels onto the table in front of him. He knew that there was only so long that he could hold onto his rage at Aziraphale so he was going to let himself wallow in it for as long as he could.

_‘Bastard. You stupid, clueless…clever, beautiful, amazing bastard. You….’_

A ring at the door nearly made Crowley fall out his seat. How dare some idiot interrupt him while he fuming with rage and self-pity? Scales appeared on the sides of his face as the temptation to appear at the door in his snake form became overwhelming. That would teach them.

“Crowley? Please open the door.”

Crowley jerked up to his feet, the scales vanishing. It sounded like Aziraphale, but something was wrong. The voice had been weak, strained. Uncertain.

Crowley rushed over to the door, his anger forgotten. When he opened it, Crowley was barely able to bite back a gasp.

It was Aziraphale all right, but he looked awful. His hair was a mess of tangled curls, and his face was ashen with the normally rosy hues washed out to a grey tinge. His posture was sagging and the way he trembled made him look unsteady on his feet. Even though they weren’t in the physical plane, Crowley could see that his wings were shaking with exhaustion.

Dull, vacant eyes looked up while the angel’s bottom lip shook. “May I come in?”

Crowley’s heart lurched at the plaintive tone in that question, as if the demon could even consider turning him away.

“Come on, angel,” he said, holding an arm out. “Get in here.”

The arm had just been meant as a gesture to guide Aziraphale into his flat, but Aziraphale surprised him by grabbing onto it. There was a tremor in his hands, but his grip was still surprisingly strong.

“All right, all right,” Crowley said quietly, snapping the door shut with his fingers. He maneuvered Aziraphale further into the flat and walked him toward the front room all while making sure to not disrupt Aziraphale’s hold on him.

He finally extracted his arm from Aziraphale’s hands when he felt the angel sway. Then he wrapped one arm around his waist and pulled one of Aziraphale’s arms across his shoulders, holding onto the angel’s hand to keep it there. Aziraphale stumbled and would have fallen if Crowley hadn’t propped him upright.

“I’ve got you, angel,” he murmured. “Hey now, easy, I’ve got you. Come on, let’s get you sat down.”

Crowley guided him to a couch in the living room and carefully eased him down onto it. Then he crouched down in front of Aziraphale, placing his hands over the angel’s. He shuddered when he realized they were like ice.

“Aziraphale, what the Heaven happened to you? Where have you been?”

Aziraphale stared at him for a moment and then closed his eyes, shaking his head back and forth.

Crowley sighed and hung his head. _‘Ok, not yet. Got to go slow. Gentle.’_

His hands slid down the angel’s arms, and he could feel shivers starting. Crowley stood up and snapped his fingers, miracling up a large comforter, as soft and fluffy as he could imagine. It was a forest green tartan with sea green tassels on the edges.

“Here, angel” he murmured. Crowley draped it over Aziraphale’s shoulders, bending down to smooth it down around him. Once he was done, he straightened back up again.

“How about a drink?” Crowley offered. “I’ve still got a bottle of that wine you brought over last week.”

Aziraphale didn’t respond, but Crowley decided he might as well get it anyway. Even if Aziraphale didn’t have any, Crowley wanted a drink for himself. Or maybe several of them.

He started to step away, but then the angel’s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist with a vise grip.

“Ok, ok, so no drink for now,” Crowley said, moving back to the couch. “Maybe later.”

He let the angel pull him over to sit beside him. As soon as he sat down, Aziraphale shuffled over to him. Crowley started to lift his arms, but then hesitated, unsure of what to do.

Fortunately, Aziraphale chose that moment to speak again.

“Will you hold me?” he asked in a voice that was far too meek for Crowley to be comfortable with.

Rather than trust his voice, Crowley nodded and opened his arms up for the angel. Aziraphale immediately responded, scooting into Crowley’s arms and wrapping his own arms tight around the demon’s torso. Crowley held Aziraphale with a firm and what he hoped was a reassuring hug.

Aziraphale pressed his face into Crowley’s shoulder. A moment later, he let out a broken sigh which Crowley chose to take as a sign that he was at least marginally better.

Meanwhile, Crowley had to will himself to stay still in spite of the growing panic he felt. From what he could tell, Aziraphale wasn’t injured, at least not physically. There was no trace of an aura from another angel or a demon on him, so he probably hadn’t been attacked. At least not recently. So what was going on?

And more importantly, how was he going to fix this?

Several long, silent minutes later, the shivering stopped and Aziraphale stirred in his arms, raising his head and pulling back to look at him. Crowley was relieved when he actually saw some life returning to Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Crowley, would you mind it terribly if I stayed here with you tonight?”

Crowley swallowed hard. “No! Please do. I….I mean, of course you can, angel. Are you tired? Do you need to rest?”

“I would like that very much, yes, my dear.”

* * *

Several minutes later, Crowley was lying in bed in a black tee shirt and black boxers. Eventually, Aziraphale walked into the bedroom, having changed into the powder blue tartan pajamas Crowley kept on hand for him. He still had the blanket Crowley had conjured up for him, and the demon felt his heart melt every time Aziraphale lifted the fabric to his cheek and nuzzled against it.

Aziraphale walked over to the bed, and Crowley rolled onto his side to face him. “I could move out to the couch, if you want.”

“No, please, I’d rather join you,” the angel said, sitting down onto the mattress. He laid down and turned to his side so they were face to face.

“You comfortable there, angel?”

“Quite comfortable, my dear, thank you.”

A smile finally appeared on Aziraphale’s lips, and Crowley felt a weight lift from his heart. That relief only lasted a moment though as the angel’s face soon became much more somber.

“Crowley, about the other night….”

“Look, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Crowley cut in. “I mean, I get it. I was going too fast. I didn’t mean to, and I’m really sorry about that. And I swear to you, angel, it won’t happen again.”

Aziraphale put a hand on Crowley’s arm, his grip gentle, but insistent.

“No, Crowley, I want to talk about it. And part of the reason why I do is because you did nothing wrong, dearest. Nothing at all.”

The angel sighed and shook his head, seemingly unsure of where to begin. Crowley watched him silently, wondering what he should be doing.

“What are you thinking about?”

The demon took in a sharp breath. There was something he wanted, but he was nervous about putting it into words. Then he decided that it would probably be better to be honest.

“About how I’d like to hold you again,” he murmured.

Aziraphale’s smile was sad, but fond. He slid over, snuggling against Crowley’s chest. Crowley put his arms around him, his tension finally starting to ease marginally.

“Crowley…do you remember Golgotha?”

Crowley shuddered. He couldn’t see how any eternal being, angel or demon, could ever forget Golgotha, of the trial and crucifixion of God the Son.

“Yeah, um, I’d showed up the night before. Ran into Judas at one point.”

Crowley stopped, his jaw tightening. That was all he would ever say about that night. If he had had his way, he would blot out every single memory he had of it.

“I was there the night before as well,” Aziraphale replied. “Officially, I wasn’t due to show up until the next day, but when I heard about what was going to happen….”

The angel gulped and shuddered. Crowley tightened his hold, not surprised that he wasn’t the only one who had bad memories from that day.

“Crowley, I was there on the night of His birth. I saw Him at the baptism. I…He was….”

“You loved Him,” Crowley finished for him. Really, that came as no shock. Aziraphale was an angel after all. Angels had a love for God woven into their being. And having lived with humans for so long, it wasn’t surprising that Aziraphale would feel a special attachment to the manifestation of God on Earth.

“I did,” Aziraphale said pulling back so he could face Crowley. “He brought so much to the world. He brought hope, Crowley. When He spoke, people listened to Him. They _believed_.” The angel’s voice hitched. “I didn’t know that He was meant to die as a sacrifice.”

Aziraphale paused, closing his eyes and simply breathing for a few moments before continuing.

“That night, I found Him alone, praying in a garden. He, He was scared. He was begging God to take this, this terrible _thing_ away from Him. And if He had said the word, I would have flown Him as far away as I could so as to spare Him. But when He looked up at me, I could see it in His eyes. He was submitting to the Almighty’s Will. He could do no less. And He knew that I understood His reasons.”

Aziraphale turned his gaze toward the mattress. “I wasn’t supposed to look in on Him. I was just supposed to be a neutral observer. But, I…that night, I held Him. Just for a moment. Just so I could offer some tiny measure of comfort. Then I promised Him that I would be close by for all of it. He wouldn’t be alone.”

“That’s why you were there,” Crowley murmured. “You were keeping your promise.”

Aziraphale nodded, and just then, Crowley wished he could turn into a snake and disappear rather than remember the snide attitude he had taken with Aziraphale that day.

“When it was…when it was over, I begged Gabriel to send me somewhere far away for an assignment. I would have gone to the most barren lands on the planet to escape that place. But he said no. Orders from the Metatron. All angels were to be on standby. So we waited. Waited and did nothing while the believers, followers and disciples mourned. We weren’t allowed to offer them any solace at all.”

Crowley nodded. He had heard that Hell had had quite the celebration that day, but he had wanted no part of it. He had taken off for the far east and spent the next five years there before finally returning to that part of the world.

“Three days later, Gabriel ordered me to go to His tomb and await further instruction,” Aziraphale said. “I didn’t want to go. None of us did, but Gabriel insisted that it had to be me as I was Heaven’s official representative on Earth.”

Crowley scowled. That bastard Gabriel always found any excuse necessary to justify giving all the worst jobs to Aziraphale, and Aziraphale dutifully carried them out even if he clearly hated every moment of them.

“I was only there for a moment when it happened,” the angel said. “I could hear the Metatron’s voice in my head, telling me to move the boulder in front of the tomb. Oh, I do wish they had not chosen such a rounded stone to block the entrance. If they had, it might not have rolled onto that poor centurion’s foot when the Roman authorities went to investigate it.”

Aziraphale shook his head, but Crowley could not hold back the smile that teased his lips. Leave it to Aziraphale to add a comic facet to what was supposed to be a Divine Miracle.

“When I moved it aside, there He was. Alive and waiting. Crowley, none of us knew that this was going to happen. Well, except God and the Metatron, of course. I saw Him, and oh…I couldn’t remember when I had felt such joy, except perhaps on the night of His birth. I fell to my knees and I…I….”

There was another catch in his breath, chasing the smile on Crowley’s face away. He stroked the angel’s back.

“You what, angel?”

“I wept. I couldn’t help myself. Seeing Him alive again, I was so happy. And then He smiled at me and ordered me to rise and spread comfort among His followers. And that’s what I did for almost a week afterwards.”

Crowley frowned. “What happened then?”

“Gabriel. I was traveling toward Jerusalem when he stopped me along the way. He told me that my conduct as an agent of Heaven had become unseemly. Initially, he said that I was to be reprimanded and perhaps removed from my post. He also said….”

“Wait,” Crowley interrupted. “Are you telling me that Gabriel got after you because you, a servant of God and a member of the Heavenly Host, cried in response to the Resurrection?”

“Angels are supposed to remain focused on obedience and service,” Aziraphale replied, his tone becoming flat. “We’re not supposed to become…attached. Or indulge in human emotions.”

“Bless it, Aziraphale, they’re the Almighty’s emotions too! I’m pretty sure that’s where She got the idea from to give those emotions to humans. And you’re supposed to be a being of love for…for Somebody’s sake. Weren’t you supposed to love the Son with all your heart?”

“Not at the expense of Observance to the Great Plan,” Aziraphale countered. “You see…that wasn’t the first time I had let my emotions get the better of me. I’m afraid, I’m not very good at staying as detached as I should be. Sometimes…sometimes I feel love and I become overwhelmed by it. I give myself to it and it flows from me.”

“And that’s…bad?” Crowley asked, genuinely confused.

“Like I said, angels aren’t meant to be ruled by their emotions. Love without instruction to do so and without strict control is frowned upon.”

Crowley shifted to lie on his back and turned his gaze to the ceiling. He could feel Aziraphale shift his position next to him and made sure to adjust his hold accordingly.

“Angel…that’s fucked up.”

He looked back over to see Aziraphale blink, his brow furrowing.

It was then that the true horror behind what the angel was telling him sank in. _He_ could see that it was fucked up, but _Aziraphale_ couldn’t. Gabriel and probably most of Heaven had actually convinced him that an angel shouldn’t surrender themselves to love. That they shouldn’t express genuine, uncensored emotion toward others. That they shouldn’t feel anything other than strict devotion to the Great Plan.

The horror turned to an active dread when he realized that there was something that had remained unsaid.

“You were to be reprimanded? What happened instead?”

The instant he said those words, Crowley wished he could take them back. The angel’s eyes dimmed and went back to staring at the sheets while the shivers returned to his body.

“Gabriel decided that something else would be better. Something to help me learn to control my emotions. He felt that I needed to spend some time away from Earth.”

Crowley felt his heart pound. A part of him wanted to stop right there, to not hear another word about any of this. But having gone this far, he knew that he had to continue for Aziraphale’s sake.

“Where did you go, angel?”

“…to the Neither Circles.”

The demon’s eyebrows shot upward. The Neither Circles weren’t often talked about, mainly because both sides tried to deny their existence.

The Neither Circles were a neutral space outside of Heaven and Hell. Here, both demons and angels could interact with each other or with the Opposition away from the observation of either God or Lucifer. No one was sure about why they were created, although Crowley suspected that this was another quirk of Her bizarre sense of humor.

However, both sides tended to only go there when it was absolutely necessary. While it was a good place to carry out clandestine conversations and activities, it was also completely removed from the spiritual plane. In other words, it was like being placed into a sensory deprivation chamber: relaxing for a few minutes, but unnerving and then tortuous for any longer than that.

“Gabriel thought that it would be best way to remove me from any distractions that could interfere with my mission to tame my emotions. So I was ordered to go and stay there until he felt I had had enough time to complete my quest.”

Crowley’s eyes glowed, his hands curling into tight balls. “How long were you there, angel?”

“Well, you know, Crowley, time doesn’t move in the exact same way as it does here in the physical plane….”

“How long?”

“…six years.”

Crowley’s heart dropped, his hands shaking. Six years?! Six years cut off from Her Grace and from every other spiritual connection? Crowley still had vague recollections of what it was like when Her Grace was ripped from him during his Fall, of the emptiness that was left afterward. But at least he had still had the dark grind of Lucifer’s presence to ground him and then give him something he could move away from. Aziraphale had been forced to endure a void of existence for six years.

The demon closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. For an angel to spend so long in a place like that without Falling…it would have been Hell. There was nothing else that came even remotely close to an equivalent. Gabriel had thrown Aziraphale into Hellish isolation just because the angel had allowed himself to be moved by the Passion of the Almighty Son.

Eventually, Crowley was able to open his eyes and moved his hands so he could hold Aziraphale closer to him. At that moment, he wondered, quite calmly he thought, what it would be like to remove an archangel’s wings one feather at a time.

“After those six years ended, Gabriel felt I had been given sufficient time to achieve clarity,” Aziraphale said in a much smaller voice than he had had a moment ago. “I was allowed to return to Earth. Unfortunately, I wasn’t entirely ready for it and struggled to get my bearings back. I ended up wandering in the desert for a while, which didn’t help as much as I hoped it would. I became lost for a time.”

The angel paused, pursing his lips. Crowley wondered if he should encourage him to continue or not and settled on simply running his hands along Aziraphale’s back. A touch just to remind him that he was still there. Aziraphale looked up at him with a lopsided smile.

“Fortunately, a traveling caravan found me and offered to let me travel with them. And one of the first things they did was give me some nourishment: a simple meal of wine and cake. I’d never eaten or drank anything before that. And after such a long stretch without much in the way of sensory experience…I was deeply curious.”

The smile grew. “It turned out to be a marvelous, and I ended up dining with them at every meal. I hadn’t known that sharing food and drink was such a social and celebratory thing. These humans, they put just as much care into indulging the palate as they did sustaining the body. I found I couldn’t get enough of it and made sure to sample the cuisine of every place I traveled to.

Aziraphale’s smile grew. "The way I saw it, I couldn’t really be an effective agent of Heaven if I didn’t allow myself to experience the same things they did in their daily lives. Heaven couldn’t possibly object to my integrating myself further into their societies.”

The angel’s smile was soon mirrored on Crowley’s face. It made sense now, the passion Aziraphale had for food and drink. It wasn’t just a caving to the pleasures of the flesh. Aziraphale had actively rebelled against the cage Heaven had tried to shut him into. Every bite, every sip enjoyed and savored was a small act of defiance carried out by an angel choosing to become a hedonist rather than completely submit to a warped interpretation of Divine Edict.

Crowley’s heart fluttered. Before now, he didn’t think it was possible to love Aziraphale any more than he did, and yet here he was. He loved Aziraphale even more than he had earlier that day. Exponentially more. Tomorrow, he was going to miracle up a box of the most sinful, decadent chocolates he could imagine and feed them to Aziraphale one by one until the angel was gorged on the pleasure of eating them.

Aziraphale squeezed his arm, turning Crowley’s attention back to him. The angel was beaming. “I was ever so happy to find you in Rome a little while later, my dear. Remember? We had oysters together, truly transcendent oysters. I’ll never forget that day. Ever since I had discovered eating and drinking, I had had a feeling that it would be even more delightful if shared the experience with you. I had been thinking about you ever since we parted at Golgotha. Even while I was…there…I thought about how wonderful it would be to see you again.”

Crowley impressed himself by being able to smile back while his heart broke. Oh he had remembered that day all right. He remembered how he hadn’t actually been happy to see Aziraphale at all. How, after Golgotha, he was sick of angels, demons, the whole lot of them. Including Aziraphale who had disappointed him not once, but twice by proving himself to be just another angelic slave to God’s Will even when that Will was behind some questionable decisions.

His heart ached even more while he remembered Aziraphale’s awkward attempts to engage him and the genuine friendliness and joy the angel expressed even in the face of Crowley’s far less than enthusiastic company. The fact that Aziraphale had longed to see him even while suffering in the Neither Circles only added to his sorrow.

Crowley knew that these revelations would turn him inside out for many nights to come. He also knew that, while he hated lying to Aziraphale, he would never tell the angel about any of this.

“Crowley…being with you…being like this with you…it’s something I’ve wanted for a long time. A very long time,” Aziraphale said. “But now that we are together, now that I can be with you, I….” He turned watery eyes toward him, and Crowley’s insides clenched. “I’m afraid.”

“Afraid?” Crowley echoed, his stomach churning. “Afraid…of me?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Afraid of myself. Of losing control. When we’re together, it feels so wonderful, and I want to love you. I want to show you how much I love you, but I….”

“You can,” Crowley blurted out. “Angel, don’t be scared about losing control or whatever. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Aziraphale said, his voice becoming flat again. “If, if I could just learn to control….”

“No! Fuck that,” Crowley snapped. “Fuck Gabriel and fuck the rest of them. Angel, I want you to be yourself, to love however you want.” He reached over and caressed the angel’s cheek. “Aziraphale, you trust me, don’t you? Then trust me when I say that I won’t let anything bad happen when we’re together.”

Aziraphale’s eyes shone even more. “I _do_ trust you, Crowley. I truly do. But….”

The angel turned his face away, a soft hiccup reaching Crowley’s ears. Anger crept into Crowley’s heart again.

_‘Damn it, he does trust you, you idiot. He trusted you enough to tell you all this, to share everything that’s been eating at him all this time. He just can’t….’_

Frustrated, Crowley ran a hand through his hair. He knew, he really did, that Aziraphale confided with him in a way that he probably had never done with anyone else. That the level of trust involved with opening himself up this way had been enormous.

But there’s trusting someone on such a deep level and then there’s chucking away a lifetime of cruel and calculated psychological conditioning. Just like the rest of it, he would have to go slow and give Aziraphale enough time to come to terms with dismantling millennia of warped thinking that had been forced into him.

There was, however, one aspect of this that Crowley knew he could not wait around for.

“Aziraphale…did you go to the Neither Circles that night? That night after we had…?”

The angel pulled himself away from Crowley’s arms at last and turned onto his side, his back facing Crowley. But he had not moved fast enough for Crowley to miss the humiliation twisting his features. It was a look the demon had never ever wanted to see on Aziraphale’s face.

“I, I…”Aziraphale stuttered out. He let out a sob before continuing. “Oh Crowley, dear, please forgive me. What you must have been thinking when I left you like that. What you were doing that night was wonderful and I enjoyed it ever so much. But I also could feel myself slipping and wouldn’t have been able to hold back if I had let it continue any longer than I did. I, I thought, if I could just stop…if I went somewhere and got my control back….”

“No!” Crowley said with even more force than he did before. He got up on all fours and hovered next to Aziraphale, making sure that the angel saw him out of the corner of his eye. “Not for me, Aziraphale. Do you understand? You do not put yourself through that for me. If you need to slow down or stop or whatever, we’ll deal with it together.”

He sat back on his heels while Aziraphale sat up to face him, a look of astonishment on his face.

“And, and, if you just want to stick to kissing or holding hands or just skip all of it, that’s absolutely fine with me. Whatever you need. Because none of it is as important as you are to me. As being with you is to me.”

Crowley felt his face grow hot by the end of this, and that awareness finally made him go silent. _‘Shit, was that too much? This was supposed to be about Aziraphale and here I go off on a rant like that.’_

Even worse, the tears he had seen in Aziraphale’s eyes earlier had returned and were actually sliding down his cheeks now. Crowley felt like slinking away and was about to do so when Aziraphale leaned forward and took both of his hands into his.

“Crowley, I know I have reminded you many times that you were an angel once,” he said, his voice wobbling. He lifted Crowley hands and placed them onto his cheeks. “But my dearest, please know that, in my eyes, you never stopped being an angel.”

It took a few seconds for the short-circuiting that overloaded Crowley’s brain to wear off. For him to fully register what Aziraphale had actually said to him. How could Aziraphale think that of him? He was a demon. A being of evil and darkness. How…how could he…?

“I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale continued. “And even though I know I don’t deserve….”

Crowley frowned and put a finger to the angel’s lips. “Stop. You deserve it. Whatever love I can give you, you deserve it, angel. You deserve far more than that.”

The angel smiled and blushed, a soft laugh escaping his lips while he wiped his tears away. Then he yawned, and Crowley took hold of his shoulders.

“Lie back down, angel. You still need to rest,” he said gently, guiding Aziraphale onto his back. “Especially after…well, after all this.”

Aziraphale laughed again. “I believe you are right, my dear. Although, I was hoping that you would….”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Crowley replied. He rolled back onto his hip, kicking his legs out in front of him. Before he laid down though, he pulled the comforter back over the angel, tucking it around his shoulders.

Aziraphale looked up at him, adoration in his eyes, and then pulled Crowley to lie practically on top of him. Crowley barely had a chance to settle in and put his arms around the angel before Aziraphale placed his hand behind Crowley’s neck. His eyes were wide, making it easy for Crowley to see how red and puffy they still were.

Then Aziraphale pulled him in for a kiss. And then another and another.

Crowley felt himself melt into these kisses and sank into the angel’s arms. He was floating, drifting away into somewhere warm and soft.

Then he felt those lips pull back with a giggle, and Aziraphale turned his face away. Crowley blinked, but then placed a chaste peck onto Aziraphale’s cheek. That was the hint. The hint to stop and go no further for now.

Any disappointment Crowley might have felt was eclipsed by the relief that Aziraphale was willing to try again. That, even if this would be slow or might never go beyond this point, his angel was committed to the idea of them working together as one rather than as two separate entities struggling to claw their way back to each other.

Crowley closed his eyes. He could feel Aziraphale’s breath on his neck and let himself be enveloped by the angel’s arms.

He hadn’t slept since Aziraphale had disappeared four days ago. Now, Crowley wondered how many days would pass before he wanted to wake up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw someone on Tumblr send an Ask to Neil Gaiman commenting on how Crowley's favorite show in the book was The Golden Girls (a detail I love) Then they asked him what modern shown Crowley would watch and Gaiman answered The Good Place.  
Thus, I just couldn't resist adding in a nod to both shows.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. Another long one, but I'm finally happy with how this one wraps things up.
> 
> This chapter also fulfills the Ineffable Husbands Bingo prompt square: cuddles.

When Crowley finally did wake up, the first thing he noticed was curls.

He blinked several times, coaxing his eyes to focus. He found Aziraphale who was still lying on his side next to him, fast asleep and with his limbs folded close to him.

But what stood out was that Aziraphale’s hair had changed. The normally short, faint beginnings of curls had grown much longer. However, instead of cascading downward in a predictable line, the angel’s curls had fluffed upward and outward, flopping onto his forehead and around his ears.

Crowley’s eyes were drawn to one loose curl in particular that was drooping onto Aziraphale’s forehead. It swayed slightly with each one of the angel’s breaths.

The demon smiled and shook his head. Moments like this made it easy to believe that Aziraphale had been good at temptation whenever their Arrangement called for it. Right now, he ached to reach over and twist his fingers through those curls. Not that he would dare do so and risk waking Aziraphale up.

_‘Wait…how long have we been asleep?’_

Crowley rolled over and grabbed his watch which was lying on a stand next to the bed.

_‘Two days. That’s barely even a nap.’_

_‘So how…?’_

Crowley turned back to stare at the angel sleeping beside him. He was certain that angels’ hair didn’t grow any faster than normal while in corporeal forms. Which meant that Aziraphale must have chosen to do this on at least a subconscious level. It was the first time Crowley had seen him change his hair for centuries, making him wonder why it had happened in the first place.

It wasn’t a question that preoccupied his thoughts for long. He was far too busy enjoying the sight of Aziraphale peacefully slumbering.

_‘So much for “I’m an angel and angels don’t need rest”.’_

Crowley opened his mouth to chuckle, but forced himself to remain silent. He was relieved to see that, while the angel’s face was still pale, it no longer had the grey cast it had a couple nights ago. Still, Aziraphale was clearly exhausted and there was no way in Heaven or Hell that he was going to allow anything to disturb him.

Instead, he jammed one elbow into his pillow and propped his head up on his fist. What did angels dream about? For Crowley, dreams meant revisiting memories, both the good ones and the bad. With such a vast collection of memories built up over millennia, he rarely had the same dream twice in a row.

However, most of them revolved around memories of Aziraphale. Both the dreams he longed to be real and the nightmares he prayed wouldn’t be.

Crowley wondered if the same was true for angels. Did they revisit moments from their own history or did they invent totally new worlds to explore? And did they have any control over what they dreamed about? Could they suffer from nightmares just as easily as they indulged in pleasant dreams?

The demon frowned. He liked to think that he would have noticed if Aziraphale had had a nightmare even while he was asleep himself. At least, he figured that would be the case based on his own experiences with bad dreams. Too many nights had ended with limbs rigid, sweat drenching his body, and his throat burning from recent and violent use.

Then again, maybe Aziraphale would find a way to keep it all hidden. He was frustratingly good at repression, a facet of his personality that consistently worried Crowley. It was the reason why Aziraphale’s recent emotional outbursts had disturbed him. So, maybe the angel would show no signs of having a bad dream other than a soft whimper or a slight shudder.

Unable to resist the urge any longer, Crowley reached over and gingerly swept the ringlet on Aziraphale’s forehead back into the mess of curls on the top of his head. Then he let his fingers gently tousle the rest of the angel’s hair. Aziraphale leaned into the touch with a sleepy snuffle, but did not open his eyes or regain consciousness.

“Sweet dreams, angel,” Crowley murmured. Then he remembered Aziraphale usual way of dealing with unconscious humans and got an idea.

“Aziraphale,” he said, his voice drifting into a Suggestion. “The next thing you dream about will be whatever you desire the most. Whatever it is, it’s yours. All yours for the taking. However much you want.”

The angel’s lips creased into a smile, and Crowley smirked as he made guesses about which of Aziraphale’s favorite dishes he was dreaming about.

Aziraphale stirred in his sleep, his lips parting. “Alain…another crepe? Yes please…_merci_….”

Crowley grinned. _‘Of course it was the crepes. He can never get enough of them.’_

_‘But…why did that name sound so familiar? Like he had…?’_

“Here, my dear…have one of mine...please Crowley…want to…want…you….”

Crowley froze. Now he remembered why that name seemed familiar. Alain was the name of the chef who worked at the café Aziraphale took him to after Crowley had saved the angel from the Bastille in 1793. Aziraphale was having a dream about that day. About the lunch they had together.

A dream about what the angel desired the most. A dream about _him_.

Crowley felt his face grow hot again. Figures that Aziraphale could find a way to turn his heart into mush even while sleeping. Did he have any idea what all this tender sentiment could do to a demon? Probably not. Probably didn’t care either. He was a bit of a bastard that way.

Still, this did give Crowley an idea for a project he had been meaning to get to for quite a while. Something to fill his time while waiting for Aziraphale to wake up.

Crowley watched him sleep for a couple minutes more before lightly brushing Aziraphale’s hair again and pulling the comforter up to the angel’s ears, gingerly tucking him in. Aziraphale shifted again, and Crowley waited until he had stopped moving again for a few seconds before finally sneaking off the bed and out of the bedroom.

* * *

The next morning, Crowley stared at the bowl sitting in front of him on the counter. More specifically, at the contents of said bowl.

It hadn’t been easy to track down the ingredients he wanted and then there was the process of miracling up the equipment he needed. Even after that was accomplished, there was the time spent practicing a recipe he hadn’t used in literal centuries.

This time though, after extensive trial and error, Crowley was certain that he had finally achieved perfection. Granted, he could have done that by simply commanding the end product of this recipe into existence, but he suspected that Aziraphale would know the difference. He usually did, as evidenced by the pointed expressions and vague tutting that occurred when Crowley tried to give him food he had prepared via miracle.

“Crowley? Dear, I…oh, there you are.”

The demon twirled around to see Aziraphale standing in the doorway to the kitchen. The angel was still dressed in his pajamas and was rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Good morning, angel,” he said, grinning. “Sleep ok?”

The angel yawned and nodded. “I did. I must have needed it. But…did I really sleep for three days?”

“Yep,” Crowley said, turning back toward the counter. He continued to mix the ingredients in the bowl. Fully aware that Aziraphale was watching him with interest, but content to not give any hints about what he was doing.

“Nice hair, by the way. Trying something new?”

Crowley craned his head back to see Aziraphale looking upward and patting his head in several spots.

“I suppose I am. I think part of me felt I needed a change.” Aziraphale tugged at a curl near his temple which sprang backward when he let go. Then he took a step toward Crowley. “Do you…do you think it looks all right?”

“It’s your hair, angel. Wear it however you want.” Suddenly aware of how that could sound, Crowley turned from the counter and walked over to him.

“Although, if you want my opinion, I think you should keep it. It’s very…inviting.”

Aziraphale’s face scrunched up. “Inviting?”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, smirking. “Like this.” He reached up and ran his hands through the curls, twining them into white-gold rings on his fingers.

Aziraphale smiled and put his hands over Crowley’s. “I think I will keep it like this for a while then. Variety is supposed to be the spice of life, after all.”

Crowley chuckled and untangled his hands from Aziraphale’s hair so he could get back to work with the batter he had left on the counter. It only took a few seconds for Aziraphale’s attention to return to the matter at hand.

“Crowley, are you making me breakfast?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

A soft squeal of delight rang in Crowley’s ears, and he sensed the angel moving up closer behind him.

“What is it?”

“Not telling,” Crowley replied. “It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise? But…well, what if I don’t like it?”

“You will.”

Satisfied that he was ready to start cooking, Crowley grabbed a pan out of the cupboard that he had miracled in there yesterday.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale paced back and forth behind him. “Have you made this before?”

“A few times,” Crowley answered, feeling no need to elaborate on just how many times “a few” actually amounted to. “Haven’t tried eating it myself though. I guess we’ll see how it turns out.”

There was more pacing, and Crowley smirked as he deliberately slowed his movements to prolong the mystery.

“Is this something you intend on serving today or are we to wait until some unspecified point in the future?”

Crowley snorted. “I thought patience was supposed to be a virtue. And aren’t angels supposed to be all about virtue?”

“Trying to twist my own words against me, I see. Your tactics haven’t changed in six thousand years you old serpent.”

Crowley laughed as he turned again to face him. This was the Aziraphale he wanted, needed, and loved. Tender, cheerful, and affectionate, but also snarky, haughty, and impatient. Just the right amount of salt and plenty of strength in the center of all that soft sweetness. It was a vast improvement over the anxious, meek angel he had taken care of three days ago.

Aziraphale pulled at another ringlet as he moved closer to Crowley, a smile on his face again. “You do look quite fetching in that apron, my dear.” He reached around the demon’s waist to play with the apron strings. “Red is definitely your color.”

Crowley smirked. He had been surprised to find an apron with “World’s Greatest Tempter” emblazoned on the front of it. Then again, he figured he probably shouldn’t have been shocked considering what else was for sale on the website where he got it from.

The smile on Aziraphale’s face grew as he reached up for the strap around Crowley’s neck. “It certainly matches the color of your lovely eyes.”

The demon gulped and for a second he had wished that he had put his shades back on so Aziraphale couldn’t see the slight widening of his eyes. It also didn’t help that his face was probably the same hue of red as his apron by now.

Still, Crowley did not give up easily. “You still want breakfast, _angel_? Or have you got something else in mind?” He tried to make that sound as lewd as possible, but that wasn’t easy with the squeaky crack in his voice near the end.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale’s smile became much too smug. He leaned in and placed his palm onto Crowley’s cheek before giving him a quick peck on the nose.

“Have you got a coffeepot, my dear? I could make us some while I’m waiting.”

* * *

Ten minutes, two miracles, and one very flustered demon later, Crowley sauntered over to the table, a plate in each hand. He served one to Aziraphale who had put two fresh cups of coffee onto the table as well as laying out linens and silverware.

“There you go,” Crowley said, plopping down onto his chair.

Aziraphale leaned forward, a joyous smile on his face. “Why Crowley…these are crepes!”

“They are. Figured you’d enjoy them after your first real nap.”

“My dear, I…Crowley?”

“Mmm?”

“Is that a snake made out of fruit and cream on mine?”

“Might be.”

Aziraphale looked up with a wry expression. “Not exactly very subtle, is it?”

“Only if you have a dirty mind, angel. Go on. Try one.”

Aziraphale snorted, but still complied, slicing a sliver off with his fork. He placed the bite into his mouth with a questioning wariness. The moment it touched his tongue, however, Aziraphale let out a long sigh of happiness.

“I thought you would like them,” Crowley replied, feeling entitled to his turn to be smug.

Aziraphale ignored his tone. “Crowley, these are scrumptious. Marvelous. Why, I’d even go as far as to say that they are just as good as the ones Alain used to make. You know that chef who….”

The angel abruptly stopped talking. Crowley sipped at his coffee and could swear that he could see Aziraphale connect the dots in his mind.

“Crowley…these aren’t…no, they couldn’t be….”

“If you mean, was I able to go back in time and get that guy to make them for you, then no, they’re not,” the demon said, leaning back in his chair. “But if you’re wondering if he is the one I got the recipe from, then yes. After you went back to England, I went back to that cafe and asked him to show me how to make these crepes.”

Aziraphale frowned. “I was under the impression that Alain never shared his recipes with anyone.”

“Not _just_ anyone, sure. But for someone who knows how to find the right temptation, all things are possible.”

“That is not how that verse was intended to be used, you serpent,” Aziraphale said. The retort had little heat in it, especially as the angel raised another heaping forkful to his lips, his eyes dancing with anticipation. 

He proceeded to eat half the crepes Crowley had made with plenty of sounds of appreciation before finally pausing again.

“Wait a minute, you learned to make these back in 1793 and never mentioned it until now?”

Crowley blinked hard and bowed his head to stare into his coffee cup. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“My dear, I’m not upset…well, maybe just a tiny bit. I’m mainly confused. Why did you learn to make them if you weren’t going to make them for yourself? And why did you choose to finally try your hand at them today?”

The demon curled his fingers around his cup. “Like I said, just thought I’d do something special since you finally decided to give sleeping a try.”

“And that’s the only reason? Crowley, for a demon, you are not a very good liar.”

“It’s not the only reason,” Crowley said quietly. “But I…it’s nothing. Just selfish reasons.”

“Crowley, if you don’t want to tell me, I won’t….”

“I wanted to make you breakfast, all right,” Crowley blurted out. “You know like how humans do when they wake up together the next day. That kind of breakfast. And, and I wanted it to be something you loved because…because I wanted you to want this too, and….”

_‘And now I sound so damn needy,’_ he thought bitterly. _‘Not making him the dish he almost got discorporated for just because I wanted him to spend the night with me.’_

A warm hand covering his caused Crowley to finally look up. When he did, he was faced with Aziraphale giving him a wistful smile.

“My dear, I am sorry. You’ve been so patient, waited so long. And I….”

“It doesn’t matter,” Crowley said, curling his fingers around Aziraphale’s. “You weren’t ready, so…. And you’re here now, so it’s ok.”

Aziraphale picked Crowley’s hand up and pressed his lips onto the demon’s knuckles. Then he sat his fork down and closed his other hand around Crowley’s.

“I do love you, Crowley.”

The demon coughed and glanced back down at his half-empty mug. “You said that last night.”

“And I will keep saying it. Over and over. I will never tire of saying it.” Aziraphale placed Crowley’s hand against his cheek. “I love you.”

Crowley’s face burned. He could feel the fingers on Aziraphale’s face heating up. He had already been certain that the angel had meant every word he was saying, but now he could actually feel the love Aziraphale had for him radiating from the angel’s body into his.

Aziraphale kissed his palm before letting go and picking his fork back up. Crowley coughed again and gulped down what was left in his cup, grateful for the distraction the hot liquid gave him.

“Er, I’ve got enough batter to make a couple more crepes. So eat up or they’ll get cold. Or gooey or, or something.”

Aziraphale grinned at him, an unexpected spark of mischievousness in his eyes. “Oh I intend to enjoy every bit of this, my dear.”

Crowley blinked, bemused. But he also refused to take the bait and ask what that response had been about. And of course, Aziraphale wasn’t going to explain himself either.

* * *

After breakfast was over, Crowley stacked up the dishes and utensils next to the sink. He pondered whether he wanted to simply send everything away or just miracle them clean so he could use the same things again later.

While he mulled over this decision, Aziraphale came up from behind and wrapped his arms around him again.

“Thank you for breakfast, my dear. And for letting me stay here.”

Crowley reached down and rested his hands over Aziraphale’s. “’Sss all right. You don’t have to keep….”

“But I want to.” Aziraphale rested his head against the back of Crowley’s neck.

The demon swallowed hard. Aziraphale was initiating this, so it wasn’t like he had to be concerned about whether or not the angel wanted it. So why was there this cold weight in the pit of his stomach? Why did his heart pound so hard, it was painful?

“Crowley, dearest, please don’t pull away from me.”

Crowley ground his jaw. “’M not. I’m just…I….”

Aziraphale’s hands moved up his chest. “Crowley, let me love you as much as you love me.”

Crowley’s breath caught in his throat. Throughout all this…this _thing_ they were trying to have with each other, it had been easy to focus on going too slow or fast for Aziraphale. To watch his every move and try to avoid doing things that breeched the boundaries Aziraphale had for himself.

The one thing Crowley hadn’t considered, hadn’t _wanted_ to consider was that this needed to go in both directions. That he hadn’t given Aziraphale truly equal footing in their relationship until he was willing to allow the angel test his own boundaries in the same way he tried to learn about Aziraphale’s.

“Aziraphale, I….”

Before he could say another word, the angel maneuvered him around so that they were facing each other. Aziraphale touched his face with his fingertips, gently tilting Crowley’s head so that he could stare straight into his eyes. He never understood why Aziraphale always wanted to see his eyes, the eyes of a snake, the one aspect of his demonic nature that he couldn’t completely conceal in his human-shaped form.

Suddenly, warmth stirred in his chest, causing Crowley to gasp. It was just like that night almost a week ago, that comforting, distantly familiar feeling that had spread through his body while they had kissed on that cliff.

The demon let his eyes slip shut. Every molecule of him was being set aglow. He could feel Aziraphale’s hands stroking his back and then light kisses onto his lips and cheeks. But all of that was eclipsed by the feeling of light dispelling the darkness within him.

For a moment, Crowley was certain that he was going to swoon right then and there and fall to the floor. But Aziraphale’s gentle, but surprisingly firm grip kept him upright.

“Crowley…I am here….”

Crowley could hear the angel’s voice, but it sounded like it was coming from far away. Bliss was overwhelming him. He opened his mouth to let out a soft moan, his lips remaining parted. He clung to Aziraphale, partially as a way to stay grounded in physical reality.

It was then that Crowley realized what he was feeling. It was Grace. It was Her Grace. Aziraphale was opening his entire heart and soul to him and was sharing the Grace that he still had woven into his being as an angel with him.

For that one moment, Crowley felt as he did before his Fall: completely whole and as he was created to be.

Then slowly, like the receding of a wave from the shore, the feeling dissipated.

When Crowley opened his eyes, he was surprised to find Aziraphale’s wings enveloping him. The angel’s face was flushed, his eyes adoring, but also slightly unfocused and completely vulnerable.

Crowley immediately took hold of him, rubbing his back. “Easy angel, I’ve got you.”

Aziraphale shuddered and blinked slowly. Then he leaned against Crowley, dropping his forehead against the demon’s shoulder. He let out an unsteady breath which made the demon frown.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Crowley said, continuing to stroke his back.

“You…you didn’t like it?”

Crowley stopped rubbing and clutched at him. “Of course I did. G—Sat—Somebody, it was fucking _amazing_. But that’s not the point. You don’t have to do that just to prove something to me.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want you do something you’re not ready for.”

Aziraphale put his arms around him and hitched his hands up to clasp Crowley’s shoulders.

“Crowley…sometimes, you do go too fast for me. But that’s never stopped me from getting into your car. A decision I made for myself every single time.”

Crowley’s eyes stung. Once again, he was certain that the angel wasn’t talking about the Bentley, but he didn’t want to hear it this time either. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve Aziraphale giving himself over to him like this. He was a demon: unforgivable, unredeemable, and a disgusting blight on the universe.

A kiss on his neck broke his line of thought, startling him so much, he hadn’t been able to stop a tear from sliding down his cheek. Aziraphale lifted his head and brushed it away with his thumb.

_“But my dearest, please know that, in my eyes, you never stopped being an angel.”_

The words Aziraphale had said to him that night echoed in his brain, brought back to his thoughts with the look in the angel’s eyes.

“Crowley, you deserve this too. Whatever love I can give you, you deserve it and more.”

He cupped Crowley’s face and let his hands slide up into the demon’s hair. “Let me learn to love you too.”

Crowley closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Aziraphale’s. “Demons aren’t supposed to be loved.”

“And angels aren’t supposed to be indulged. I’m afraid we are both terrible at our jobs.”

Crowley snickered and went back to rubbing lazy circles on the angel’s back. “Guess we’re stuck with being incompetent together. Fine by me. I never wanted those commendations anyway.”

Aziraphale giggled and squeezed him. Crowley laughed along with him for a minute until a wish on the tip of his tongue made him hesitate.

“Aziraphale….”

“Yes? What is it?”

“Your wings….”

The angel blushed. “Oh. Yes. Sorry, I’m afraid I got carried away. It’s sort of a side effect whenever I let myself go, so to speak, I can….”

He started to fold them away, but Crowley wrapped his arms around him tighter. “No. Please…please don’t….”

“Crowley?”

Crowley was certain that he was turning red again and was embarrassed that he couldn’t stop his mouth from moving.

“I really like it. When you hold me like this. Like you did in Eden when the rain got harder and…and you….”

His words trailed off. How could he explain how much that one little gesture meant to him? How could he tell Aziraphale about all the endless nights when longed to be sheltered by the angel’s wings again? How could he possibly express the way it felt like safety, like love. Like _home_.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to say any of it. A soft fluffy cocoon of warmth surrounded him again. Crowley reached out tentative fingers, brushing the tips against the feathers covering him, shielding him from the bleakness in his own heart.

Now it was his turn to lay his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. He felt protected. Something he hadn’t known for thousands of years.

_‘I am still a guardian, my dear. I shall keep you safe.’_

Crowley sighed. He didn’t mind hearing Aziraphale’s voice in his head like that, but there was still a wriggling of doubt inside him. Doubt and guilt. He was supposed to be keeping Aziraphale safe, not the other way around.

But that was what they had been doing all along, hadn’t they? They had done each other’s jobs over and over again for millennia. Maybe this was what the Arrangement had really been about all along. About keeping each other safe and not just about balance.

The demon frowned. He was sure now that letting Aziraphale take care of him like this was going to be just as much of an adjustment as it was for the angel to accept being loved in direct and physical ways. Then again, Crowley figured that letting Aziraphale be the guardian he was at his core was probably every bit as important to the angel as Crowley felt being able let out the softer person he was at his own core was to him.

Maybe it was time for both of them to simply allow themselves the freedom to exist as who they were rather than just as what they are.

Besides, if it meant having moments like this, moments when they could find love and protection in each other, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. At the very least, it was certainly worth another six thousand years to get it all sorted.

“Crowley, what other recipes have you mastered without telling me?”

Crowley laughed, tears threatening the corners of his eyes although he didn’t entirely understand why.

“You’ll just have to keep spending the night with me to find out, angel.”

Aziraphale sighed dramatically. “Must there always be strings attached? Well then, if I can make a request, I am curious to know if you happen to have a brioche recipe as well.”

Crowley pressed his face into the side of Aziraphale’s neck. _‘Whatever you want, angel. Always and forever.’_


End file.
